


what yarn knows about sweaters

by foldingcranes



Series: Kinktober 2017 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Kinktober 2017, Light BDSM, M/M, Painplay, Post-Recall, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 08:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12526780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foldingcranes/pseuds/foldingcranes
Summary: [Kinktober 2017 - Day 3: Painplay.] Jack wants to recover all the things they had before falling apart.It's harder than it sounds.





	what yarn knows about sweaters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stuffy_j](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffy_j/gifts).



> HEY J, I WROTE THE THING.
> 
> Thank you Katie for beta reading me and being my bestest pal <3.

Gabriel picked soft sheets. His skin isn’t what it used to be before... well, dying. It’s easily irritated, sensitive to the touch and a lot of fabrics just make him feel plain uncomfortable. They’re not commanders anymore and they’re missing a bunch of the perks that come with those jobs but Jack’s okay with it. He’s okay with going back to their humble beginnings of small quarters and tiny beds. After spending six years in the streets even having a daily meal and clean water feels more than enough.

Having Gabriel by his side again is more than he could have predicted. And more than he deserved.

Jack doesn’t linger on the  _ Hows _ or  _ Whys _ .  Doesn’t ask himself too many questions. Gabriel walked to the Overwatch base with his shotguns lowered. He walked back into Jack’s opened arms like a prodigal son. Anger still rooted inside their hearts, Jack kneeled in front of Gabriel’s bigger than life form like a praying man begging for forgiveness.

(As if he were the one coming home.)

They find their way back to each other through angry accusations at first. Through spiteful truths and clumsy words. They talk, for the first time in years, with their hearts and not with their bodies.

Loving each other has always been the easy part. Holding hands. Moving together in sync, bare skin touching bare skin.

When they were younger and undefeated, Gabriel would say “I love you” with words. He’d see the answer clearly in Jack’s eyes, in the sweet way Jack nuzzled his nose or held him quietly during the roughest nights. Held onto him through war and peace and quietness. Until Gabriel slipped like a river stone and drifted away from Jack’s strong arms and warm chest.

Thinking about Gabriel leaving still ignites a raw, throbbing pain in Jack’s heart. The mark of his mistakes aching like a brand, a wound never properly tended to. Never healed.

They’ve discussed it a couple of times as part of their healing process. Jack’s stoic silences and pride, wrapped up in isolation recklessness. Gabriel’s loss of faith in them and the fear of poisoning each other. The world pulling them into a thousand different directions.

Gabriel’s sheets are soft.

Jack’s on the bed, on his hands and knees, hard cock hanging between his legs, head low and spine arched. It’s good, it’s familiar, it’s the way things should have stayed, and Gabriel sinks into him with natural ease and a gentleness Jack didn’t ask for, softness he didn’t need or earn.

(“I’m ready,” he had said when Gabriel had asked him if he wanted to try something else. Something different than doing it face to face, something more like the things they used to do before the lack of communication drove them apart and abysms were created, when submission and dominance were gifts of trust they carefully gave to each other. “I want you. To hurt me.”

Gabriel had raised his eyebrows at him and lowered the mug of coffee he had been having for breakfast. The kitchen didn’t seem like a good place to discuss going back to kinky sex after a painful, long separation and a recent reconciliation, but Jack had always had bad timing.)

Gabriel has  _ claws _ .

He drags them down the skin of Jack’s back, tracing perfect lines of red just like Jack asked him to do. They barely graze him, marks disappearing after a matter of seconds thanks to the enhancements running in his blood. “Harder,” Jack demands, teeth gritted once Gabriel complies. “Harder,” he asks again, like he won’t be satisfied until he’s bleeding. Gabriel gives him what he wants.

Gabriel always gives him what he wants, now.

(That’s why Jack rarely asks.)

“Jackie,” Gabe groans as he fucks into him, claws digging into the meat of his sides, making him gasp and squirm with a mix of pleasure and pain as he rolls his hips to meet Gabriel’s thrusts. “I won’t--  _ fuck _ , I won’t last if you’re like this.”

He’s breathless and it’s such a beautiful sound to Jack’s ears, the little quiet noises of pleasure Gabriel makes when he’s hot and eager and  _ happy _ . And he’s happy too, content to savour the way Gabriel fills him up so perfectly, like they were made to match each other even with puzzles pieces missing and scattered all over the places they have touched while separated.

Gabriel leans down and covers him like a blanket, pressing kisses and soft words against Jack’s shoulder, rocking into him, claws digging harder and harder into Jack’s waist. He hisses in pain, welcomes it with relief. Jack allows pain to ground him, hoping Gabriel gets a decent amount of satisfaction out of it.

There’s still so much love between them, in the places that aren’t encased by anger. But it’s hard to forget years of hurt after decades of happiness.

Head pressed against the pillow and lips parted, Jack moans with every scar Gabriel retraces on his back. “Please,” he pants. “Please, just-- harder. Make them sting.”

(Jack has always wanted things to last as long as it’s possible.)

Gabriel’s pace slows then, less brutal and more gentle, one of his hands gets hold of Jack’s cock, stroking him until he’s leaking and moaning, writhing under his touch. The other hand goes to touch the scar on Jack’s lower back.

Everything stills.

Jack feels the air in his body leave in a matter of seconds, heart beating frantically and back feeling cold. Shivering, he gasps for air as his chest constricts, threatening to suffocate him. He can’t talk or scream, he can’t even form single words. Gabriel asks if he’s okay and he wants to say  _ green _ , wants to go on, wants to give himself to him.

But his body has gone cold and soft under Gabriel’s touch and the trembling is so hard he doesn’t think his knees can sustain him any longer.

(And there are only angry words in his head. Gabriel’s. His own. The impact of shotgun pellets piercing his flesh and lying on the ground as Reaper leaves while Jack wonders where did they go wrong.)

“Red,” Gabriel’s the one to say it, once he notices the way Jack shakes around him. He removes his hand from Jack’s lower back and places it on his belly as he pulls out of him carefully, still hard but no longer throbbing. Gabriel sits and makes Jack lie on his side, placing his head on his lap, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulders then petting Jack’s hair when he makes a pitiful choked sound, like he’s still struggling for air.

“Jackie?” Gabriel’s voice sounds too far away, too unreal, and Jack feels like he has dumped his head under water and now he can’t resurface, the ache on his back and the cold in his bones rendering useless.

“I’m,” Jack croaks with effort, voice raspy from struggling for air. “Fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Gabriel almost snaps. Jack can hear the barely contained frustration in his voice-- the way it sounds when Gabriel loses all patience when Jack closes off like a clam. Closing his eyes briefly, he tries counting to ten and back, and focuses on the texture of the sheets, on how warm Gabriel’s thigh feels against his cheek.

“You had a fucking panic attack, Jack,” Gabriel’s hand settles on top of his head, thumb softly touching and caressing Jack’s temple. “During _sex_. You asked me to do this to you and then--”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jack replies, tired as he comes back from the haze of panic. “It wasn’t anything I asked you to do, it was just---”

Gabriel frowns, gaze lowering towards Jack's back. Immediately tensing up, Jack swallows as much air as he can before speaking again. “That scar is… sensitive.”

It’s an uneven circle of ugly scar tissue, right between his hips. Shot point blank in the back.

“Why is--” Gabriel’s breath hitches, one of his hands reaching for Jack’s and holding onto it really tight. “Jesus  _ fuck _ , Jack.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. Jack can’t find it in his heart to answer with the truth.

_ Because I didn’t want you to see. _

He shrugs, instead. Gabe makes an exasperated noise and keeps petting his hair, until Jack’s drowsy with sleep and he can barely feel Gabriel’s thigh being replaced with a pillow under his head. “Wait here,” he thinks he hears Gabriel mutter.

Everything is calmer when both his mind and body are exhausted, a heavy and comforting fog settling slowly inside his thoughts. He’s lax and pliant when Gabriel comes back and maneuvers him in a more comfortable position and doesn’t struggle when he’s fed water and some crackers. Gabriel tucks him in bed like one would do with a child and then rests at his side, holding Jack’s hand again on top of the covers.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel says in a very, very small voice. It makes Jack’s heart do things, like clench with a perpetual sense of sadness. Gabriel is not made to sound small. To be small.

He squeezes Gabe’s hand, eyes shut. “Don’t be sorry. Just hold me.”

There’s a rustling sound and soon Gabriel is next to him under the sheets, and Jack reaches for him to come settle on top of his chest. Gabriel presses his ear to Jack’s heart and nestles there, right where he belongs. Right where he never left. “I love you,” he says, arms slipping around Jack, soft and warm like a sweater.

Jack cherishes that truth more than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> [YELL AT ME](https://twitter.com/foldingcranes).


End file.
